- POMC S117 Owns
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Chapter 10 - The Plan
The pilot slowly navigated the Pelican around a large, irregular hunk of metal, one of many that littered a newly sprung debris field. A long computer drifted by, scraping the paint work. The pilot accelerated the Pelican until it was side by side with the Frigate.
It was pitch black and it was next to impossible to differenciate the paint on the hull from the darkness of space.
No heat or light was emitting from it and Rolek believed it was a dead ship. Lost. Forgotten. Broken.
"Captain Yakotee, requesting permission to dock, over." Said the pilot, steering away from a sparking wire.
The captain must have been a pessimist, thought Rolek, for he exclaimed in surprise, questioning how they survived.
Finally, after many queries, he opened Docking Bay 7 for them.
The Pelican glided up beside the Frigate and entered the Docking Bay.
It was a large, full area with critically hit vehicles and piles of scrap. A whole jet from a Pelican was balanced precariously on a box and ammo and guns were scattered on the metal floor.
Carefully the pilot edged slowly into one of the only empty spaces and deactivated the engines.
The Captain marched up to greet them, a grim smile etched onto his face.
"Captain Rolek, nice to see you," He said, watching two marines hastily rush Malarek away in a stretcher."It's been a while."
Rolek looked quizzically at the man and asked politely,"Do I know you?"
"Probably not, anyway walk with me." Commanded the Captain.
Rolek obeyed him. They walked through the empty corridors, which were shadows of their former selfs, and Captain Yakotee briefed him solemnly.
"It was bad. Worse than bad, it was terrible. If you think the invasion of Urtgard was bad then what the rest of Harvest went through was horrific. Skyscrapers incinerated, houses scourged and communities devoured. Militia against fully determined, xenophobic aliens. Utgard had military bases, they were defended but the screams, the maddening screams of death and loneliness, were widespread in the countryside. I'll never forget the grief, the wailing, the hopeless pleading.
They came from the sky in huge ships, filled with their armies, it was so fast, so brutal. I could do nothing but save my ship so that survivors could come on-board." They passed the barracks and went into the Captain's Quarters.
The Captain sat down at his pristine, thoroughly polished desk and waved at Rolek to sit down.
Rolek sat down on an old, moth-chewed leather seat.
The Captain drummed his finger rhythmicallly off of the table.
"Sir, what is it?" Asked Rolek after a while.
The Captain stopped drumming. "Your pilot told me the seriousness of your situation. Only problem is that an alien cruiser happens to be within attacking vicinity of us." He explained. "If we send out any energy signals other than life support, then it will bombard us to kingdom come."
"So, let me guess." Said Rolek. "You want me and my team to dispose of it."
"Yes. That would be nice. Then we would be able to establish a small supply base for you and give you any military assets you need."
Rolek thought quietly for a few moments. " Well, I am sorry but I am missing two good, skilled soldiers. It would be a suicide mission."
"Don't worry about them. They will get immediate medical attention and be ready for battle in no time. Also, I have a small ODST squad waiting for you in the Barracks."
"Okay." Said Rolek in reply. "But, how are we going to get there?"
Captain Yakotee stood up and walked slowly towards a glass cabinet. He opened it and he was met with a fruity aroma.
Inside was a standard issue pistol and a large bottle of wine. He also took out two small glasses and laid them on the desk.
"Want some?" He questioned.
"Seriously? We're on duty."
"Anyway." He said, taking a deep sip. "The plan is to drift over towards the ship and hope that they don't notice that we are still intact, then we will drop you and your squad into the ship in pods."
Rolek nodded in agreement. "And then we overload the engines and escape."
"It's not going to be easy, but you have a Spartan and your squad is one of the best."
*
Captain Mclintosh of the 33rd Marine Brigade was on duty when the Covenent began their vicious orbital attack. In a matter of minutes the ground around him had become a desolate plain of slush and swamp. Homes had been leveled in seconds and cities had been burned to a blackened cinder.
He was stationed at Arctic Base 12 and when the news of an alien invasion arrived, it fell into a silent coma. All excavation vehicles had either been scrapped or converted into assault or transport vehicles. All trade had ceased and the base closed down.
He was patrolling the perimeter, thinking about life and smoking a cigar, when he felt a burning hot pain slice into his back....
His body fell onto the snow, twisted. A small streak of smoke was emitting from a small, surgical-like cut in his lower stomach. No blood fell out, just ash.
His partner spun on the spot, Shotgun facing the body. He looked up and saw a spear floating in the air. It charged towards him before he could even let out a tiny scream of pain.
Three humongous Elites de-cloaked and spat at the bodies.
"Search the area, kill any resistance you meet, but find the artefact and defend it." One of them barked domineeringly.
The other two bowed politely and walked away, turning on stealth systems.
The leader padded through the snow and scaled a small hill where he through back his head and laughed cruelly, the sound rebounding through the valley.
*
Captain Rolek stood at the entrance to the Pod Bay, planning to take a pistol and a Battle Rifle from a small, metal rack.
The room was large and spacious with most of the clutter being situated at the walls. It was also extremely wide and made of metal, like all rooms in the Frigate. On one side was the airlocks where the black, prison-like pods were located, and on the other, which was where Rolek was standing, was a small armoury staffed by a lone Private.
As Rolek strode in slowly, the Private quickly stopped repairing a battered and well-used XBR55 Battle Rifle.
"Can I help you, sir?" He asked, saluting politely and a little to enthusiastically.
"No. No. Just looking." He replied, saluting back at him.
The Private nodded, giving a wide smile.
Rolek walked over to the rack and took the weapons. He held the rifle in his large, scarred hands, weighing it.
It was painted black, made of titanium alloy and easy to hold as it was used by nearly every UNSC personel. It was gas-operated, magazine-fed and was the optimum choice weapon for exterminating targets at medium to long ranges.
He fired a few, well-aimed bursts at the wall and then reloaded, the gas piston reseting after impinging its contents.
"Nice shooting sir." Said a voice that Rolek did not recognise.
Rolek spun around, gun hanging at his side. It was Sgt. Graham Connell, the leader of the ODST squad that Captain Yakotee had given him.
"Is there a shooting range on this ship?"
"Yes. But, the Captain wants to see us up at the bridge."
Rolek put the gun back on its rack and followed the Sergeant.
"So," Asked the Sergeant, in a friendly tone."What were you doing on Harvest?"
"Sorry, but that's confidential." He said automatically.
"Oh."
They walked down a corridor in companionable silence, until Rolek asked him something.
"Why is there so much scrap flying around us?"
"Oh. That's the wreckage from the transport vehicles. Also one of the reasons why we had to switch off our engines, in case we collide with a huge piece and receive a hull breach."
"That's bad. How many ships?"
"About 30, maybe more, maybe less." He said, obviously not worried.
"That's hundreds of people killed, in a burning coffin of metal, no surviving, no help."
The sergeant shrugged and stopped at a door, walking away leaving Rolek sickened by his lack of respect and sensitivity.
Inside was a crowded room, loaded with uniformed marines, towering system controls, targeting machines and military hardware.
Standing beside a huge glass sheet, reinforced to shield the ship from solar radiation, was Captain Yakotee.
He was a bright beacon compared to the oblivion of space. He was also a beacon of hope to the civillian that had survived the conflict raging on below, instilling faith in their hearts.
When he saw Rolek stride through the empty space in the wall, subtituted for a door, he stuffed something metal into his pocket and ambled nearer a control panel.
"Captain, give the word and I'll set course for the ship." He notified Rolek in an authoritive voice.
"I'm ready, sir." He responded amiably.
Yakotee settled him self on a chair and drove over to his desk.
"All crew report to your stations. I repeat all crew report to your stations immediately. This is your Captain speaking. We are going to drift this ship over to our aggressors. Do not worry." He continued to assuage his crews fears. "Today we were evicted forcefully from our homes and family. But we will send our enemies a message. If you mess with us, you will pay. They may have superior firepower and technology, however, we have something they do not. A cause!"
All throughout the ship, people answered this rallying speech by erupting in cheers and yells.
Yakotee smiled his success away and nodded to Rolek. "Assemble your team."
*
"Admiral, we're detecting a faint energy signal coming from the debris field. Shall we check it out?" Reported an Elite Minor, bowing devoutly.
The Fleet Admiral growled at the petty soldier, who was little more than cannon-fodder. "No human would dare challenge us."
The Minor glanced around the room anxiously.
Continued!
[Edited on 05.19.2011 11:47 AM PDT]